


In the Garden of Four Rivers

by YoungestThunderbird



Series: Arcadia [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alpha-28| Tate, Alpha-34, Angst, But the fic is overall fluffy, Clank-It, F/M, Fluff, Found Family, Fox needs a Dad, Fox needs a Mom, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kamino is its own warning, Mentioned Past Child Abuse, My first attempt at long romance, Promise, Routine, SPLAT - Freeform, So is Yma Chuchi, Trigger warning:, are OCs, so I fixed it, stabby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26985037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoungestThunderbird/pseuds/YoungestThunderbird
Summary: Due to the machinations of Thire, the Coruscant Guard is assigned bodyguard duty to their favorite Senator, Senator Riyo Chuchi, as she heads home for a vacation. They pick up guests somewhere along the way.WARNING: MENTIONED PAST CHILD ABUSE
Relationships: CC-1010 | Fox & CC-4477 | Thire, CC-1010 | Fox & Quinlan Vos, CC-4477|Thire & Riyo Chuchi, Riyo Chuchi & CC-1010 | Fox, Riyo Chuchi/CC-1010 | Fox
Series: Arcadia [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1939405
Comments: 15
Kudos: 355





	In the Garden of Four Rivers

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: MENTIONED PAST CHILD ABUSE  
> Mentions of systemic abuse, forcing kids to hurt other kids, mentioned decommissioning, Kamino. Please read at your own discretion.
> 
> Despite the warnings, this is a fluffy fic, I promise! I just go overboard with the warnings so no one is hurt. Fanfic is for fun, it's not supposed to be dangerous.
> 
> I tried to be respectful in my depiction of self-esteem issues, and somewhat realistic in that just entering a relationship with someone isn't enough to magically cure them.
> 
> My First OC-driven Fic! believe it or not, most of these people appeared out of thin air. I was just as surprised as you are when they turned up. Please review, to tell me how I did! Constructive criticism only please.

Thire grinned maniacally. It seemed that going to boring Council meetings paid off after all. 

He hadn’t wanted to go, at first, but Fox was busy and had wanted at least one member of the Coruscant Guard to attend. 

Oh, how Fox would regret that. 

The first part of the meeting was boring, discussing other people’s problems and how best to solve them. Thire had had quite enough of that when he was in the Coruscant Guard’s ghastly budget meetings, or, even worse, the Problems in Patrol meetings that had become a weekly phenomenon. One could only hear so much about purse-snatchings in CoCo Town before they went bonkers. 

Though Thorn might say that driving Thire crazy was a short trip anyway, but what did he know?

He did his best not to fidget through the preliminary assignments. Master Di was sent on a courier mission, probably with Killi and the rest of his men following over-protectively a short distance behind. The man had been badly injured recently. 

Windu, Ponds, Grey, Billaba, and Dume were assigned to pirate duty on nearby hyperlanes. Thire could see Grey worrying about what new and interesting troubles Dume could find on a mission like that from here. Just last tenday they’d needed to fish the kid out of the holding tank for Hydroponics Bay 7. Ponds just looked resigned. 

Skywalker and Kenobi, to absolutely no one’s surprise, had been given the most difficult problem: negotiating peace between several former Republic and Separatists systems that had never acknowledged the end of the war. Thire could see how grumpy Alpha-17 was from the other side of the meeting room. He hated when his Jedi was in danger. 

So did every Clone really, but Alpha-17 was more open about showing it now. Thire needed to get him to talk with Alpha-28, his own Alpha. Two-eight, or Tate as he had been nicknamed by his CCs, was having trouble integrating with the regular CCs and CTs. He still felt so guilty, even though Thire and his batchmates reassured him that the things he blamed himself for weren’t his fault. Tate loved them dearly, but they couldn’t quite convince Tate that they loved him back. 

Finally, an interesting assignment came up. The Senator for Pantora requested a small detachment of bodyguards for a visit to her home planet. Thire raised his eyebrows. Senator Chuchi was clever and determined and he would absolutely help her out and get Fox in this mission no matter what. 

Then again, there wasn’t nearly so fierce a competition as he initially thought. Everyone liked her, especially the Former Senator Amidala who sat in on the meetings as legal advisor, but no one really knew her like the Guard did. 

She had given them cookies. The Guard never forgot how good the cookies tasted, and they never forgot her either. She became the recipient of a lot of odd flowers picked up during street patrol. She kept them in a vase in her office. 

It was easy to get Fox assigned to the mission. Thorn would be left in command of the Circle of Steel, and Stone would be on Vos-sitting duty. Thire himself would accompany Fox with a generous supply of pop-kernels handy. 

He was looking forward to this! Fox would probably assign him to potty-training duty for the Littles for years, but it would totally be worth it!

...

Fox was going to kill his brother. He was a security officer, he knew how to do it without getting caught. And even if he did get caught, no one would convict him. And, if by some remote chance, he was convicted, it would still be worth it. 

He was going to Pantora. Pantora, the home planet of the Senator he respected the most; and what’s more, he was going to be accompanying her! As a bodyguard! There were trashy romance novels about this scenario! Thire had probably read them!

Thire was dead meat. 

He didn’t have anything suitable to wear, outside his armor, and he had no clue whether or not Pantorans had any taboos against wearing armor in peacetime. Not everyone was Mandalorian. 

He didn’t have any time to prepare; he was leaving in three hours, which was enough time to prepare for a ground assault but far too short for a state visit. He was not running, thank you very much, but he was powerwalking towards his quarters. 

Unfortunately, he ran into Vos along the way. Why had they adopted the man again?

Ah, right. They wanted a Jedi. 

They were stupid. 

Vos actually hugged him, and _when_ had the man gotten so clingy? Then Vos dragged him to his berth, which was actually his office which he also slept in. There were downsides to having a unit with four Commanders on a ship designed for a unit with only one. 

He was man-handled onto the cot, and Vos went through the filing cabinet that doubled as his dresser. 

“Blacks, blacks, standard-issue socks, blacks... Is there anything you own that isn’t Republic issue?” Vos snarked. 

“No,” Fox deadpanned back, “I’m Republic issue.”

Vos looks up and wagged his finger at him. 

“You are a person, and people are not issued by the Government,” he admonished. 

“I know, I just have a hard time believing it sometimes. You sound like my bucket-shrink,” Fox complained back. His therapist was nice, but she talked a lot about how he was a person who had feelings. He knew that. His shrink also said that he had the right to impose his feelings on others. That he had a harder time believing. 

He knew, just like everyone else did, that that sleemo Palpatine had messed with his head. He had gaps in his memory, missing time, and he knew he had self-worth issues. He probably should be grateful he only had those. 

It was just still hard to believe that other people cared about him, though. He knew on an intellectual level that his brothers loved him, and he was begrudgingly including Vos in that category. He knew Riyo cared for him; they were best friends, she had told him herself. And he knew that the Littles thought he was the best thing since sliced nutrigrain ration, because he turned such funny colors when they asked him questions. 

But there was a scared little cadet in the back corner of his brain screaming that if he let people in, let them see how broken he was, they’d leave. And he didn’t want to be alone. 

The shrink had said that it was irrational, but no less powerful for it. She was really nice. What she had suggested was to pick one or two people and tell them about his feelings slowly, in little bits, as they came up in conversation. Somewhat unwisely, he had chosen Thire and Vos. He had started telling them about how he felt two tendays ago now, and they hadn’t left yet. It left him cautiously hopeful. 

“Listen to your shrink! She’s wise,” Vos made a sweeping gesture and almost knocked over a stack of flimsi on top of his file cabinet. The only downside to using your filing cabinet as a dresser is that you don’t have a place to put files. 

Fox didn’t have time to ruminate upon Vos destroying his room, as the man abruptly pulled him to his own room on the other end of the corridor; it was probably a broom closet in the near past. He dug through his duffel, which seemed to be bottomless, for something. He finally pulled out a white shirt with some red trim on the sleeves and a black pair of pants. 

“I had a job that I needed these for, but they should fit you well enough,” he said. 

“Why are you giving me clothes?” Fox asked bewilderedly. 

“Because, my dear Foxy man-“ 

“For the love of all that is sacred to your people and mine, _don’t call me that_ ,”

“You have a lovely lady to see! And lovely ladies deserve snazzy clothes,” Vos continued unperturbed. 

“Thank you, then,” Fox felt awkward. He had no clue what the protocol was for situations like this. Palpatine had certainly never given him anything except more paperwork to forge signatures on. 

It had never even crossed his mind how illegal that was. Just another example of the karker’s messing with head. 

“No problem!” Vos grinned disturbingly, “Simply give the Senator my complements, and tell her she’s looking pretty!”

Of course, his current commanding karker messed with his head too. At least he was _honest_ about it. 

...

Riyo Chuchi was nervous. She had gotten a comm from Dantooine confirming the bodyguard assignment. As she had hoped, it was Commander Fox and some of the men from the Coruscant Guard. 

She stood in her Senatorial apartment looking over the lovely Coruscant skyline, waiting for her escort to arrive. They would stay with her for a tenday; one day in transit each way, and eight to spend with her family. She could wish a longer visit, but the Senate was a jealous mistress. She was just grateful to be able to get away that much. 

Senator Amidala had gone years without visiting her family during the Clone Wars. Though it could be argued that she was busy with another part of her family; the Senator’s marriage to Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker was common knowledge in the Senate. 

If only she had someone to keep her that busy. 

She intentionally shook her head and cleared her thoughts of handsome Clone Commanders. That was something she needed to talk about with Fox, before making too many plans. Palpatine had hurt him too much for her to make any assumptions about what he felt toward her. 

She wanted him to be safe, and in a frame of mind that would allow him to make his own decisions, before she asked him anything. There was a saying on Pantora, ‘the love of a bird in the cage is no love at all.’ 

But she hoped he was alright, most of all. And that he was learning to help with the children, like Thorn and Stone said he was. And that Vos was keeping an eye on him like he said he would. 

Thire had said he’d be there at the third standard hour after meridian for Coruscant. She looked at the chrono in her comm, and it was still fifteen minutes until then. 

However, despite the early time, she noticed a freighter sweeping through the skylines towards her apartment. It was inconspicuous, but it was the make and model that she had been told the Clones were using as a transport to Coruscant.

A gunship was too conspicuous; the Senate still didn’t know where the Clones were. 

She walked unhurriedly to her personal landing pad and watched the transport land. 

The plan was for the troopers to disembark from their freighter and board her diplomatic transport as quickly as possible to try and minimize recognition on Coruscant, the City of a Thousand Cameras. 

They were actually quite proficient at this, she thought. They came out of the freighter dressed like regular Senate Guards, the obnoxious natborn kind, a contingent of six as might be expected for a trip of this length, duration, and risk level. 

The only way that you could tell that they weren’t real Senate Guards was that they were too good, too precise in their lockstep. A hover-cart of luggage followed them down the ramp, and the Clone dressed as squadron commander stopped in front of her and nodded. She could see them physically straining not to salute. 

She decided to put them out of their misery and invited them up the ramp into her ship. Once the hatch was closed, she nodded to the ‘Senate Guards’ that it was safe. 

They stood at attention until she sighed and said, “You can take off the buckets now, you just look odd in them.”

They immediately complied. 

“I was gonna suffocate!” Clank-it wailed. Clank-It was a Guardsman who regularly gave her flowers he collected on his patrols in the nicer areas of the lower levels. Nicer, of course, being relative. 

“No wonder the Senate Idiots are so stupid,” muttered Splat, so named because he had a bad habit of jumping off of speeders while still in motion. 

“That can’t be right, Senators don’t wear helmets and they’re dense as kriff,” countered Routine, one of her regular bodyguards.

He looked at her sheepishly, “Present company excluded of course.”

“Nice save, Routine,” deadpanned Stabby. Riyo wasn’t sure how he got his name, and at this point, she was afraid to ask. 

Thire just grinned widely at her. 

“Gentlemen, please! The lovely lady doesn’t deserve your rough treatment!” He laughed. Fox, standing next to him, simply had the face of a man resigning himself to mortal embarrassment. 

She decided to address Fox first. He seemed the most nervous. 

“Commander Fox, I’m happy to see you,” she said warmly. 

He looked at her with wide eyes, and swallowed. 

“I’m glad to see you as well, Senator,” he replied. Riyo rolled her eyes at him. 

“I know for a fact I have you permission to call me Riyo. I’m on vacation,” she teased him playfully. He simply nodded. 

She invited them all to sit down in the lounge with her. The ship had embarked nearly as soon as the hatch had closed, and she felt the quiet shudder that came with the entrance to hyperspace on a ship this well-engineered. 

The men had started talking again, quieter. She studied their faces, delighted that they were so open in front of her. Fox was quiet as well, but tracking the conversation. She knew he loved it when he just got to sit with his brothers and listen to them be happy. He hadn’t gotten enough downtime as Commander of the Guard for that. 

He looked better than she last saw him. He’d shaven recently, which meant he had more time to himself. There weren’t dark circles under his eyes; he’d slept within the last twenty-four hours. And his hair was beautifully coiffed in the fashion she knew he liked to keep it in, but couldn’t all the time because of how long it took. 

He couldn’t help but smile at him, happy that he looked so much healthier. He hesitantly smiled back. 

He had such a nice smile. 

...

Thire couldn’t suppress a smile watching his brother fall completely head-over-heels for the Senator again. Fox was a goner. He couldn’t blame him, Senator Chuchi was very pretty and very nice, and she gave his brothers cookies. If Fox and Chuchi hadn’t been so obviously interested in each other, Thire might have proposed marriage for the cookies alone. 

The trip was not a short one; it took about two days even in hyperspace to travel from Coruscant to the Sujimis sector, with about a half a day more of sublight travel to get to Pantora proper. Being rather remote in the Outer Rim, Pantora couldn’t afford to clear all celestial bodies from its system to make direct hyperspace travel possible, so ships jumped to the edge of the system and piloted in manually. 

The men were glued to the windows for the trip in; they had been planet-bound for most of their lives, unlike their brothers in the fighting units. They still were awed at the beauty of the stars and the approaching planet. 

They were, however, still professionals. By the time Riyo was ready to disembark, they were formed up and in their proper armor, not the kark the Senate Guards wore. 

They looked a sight, their armor all clean and shiny and well-painted, formed up behind Senator Chuchi like a train on Senator’s Amidala’s incredibly elaborate dresses. 

Though, Thire mused looking at the rather rustic-looking homestead the hatch opened to, they might be a bit overdressed for the occasion. There’s a first time for everything. 

An older Pantoran woman suddenly dashed up the ramp to hug the Senator. 

“Riyo, you’re home! I’ve missed you so much!” She said fondly, near-crushing the Senator in her embrace. Thire shifted a bit nervously, was this usual for natborns? But Fox gave him the all clear signal and switched on his comms. 

“That’s her mother, I’ve seen holos. She always does this, I’m told,” he said quietly. 

Well. Thire really wouldn’t know about mothers, would he. 

The other Clones shifted uncomfortably a bit as well. Thire guesses that they’d all bunk in a pile tonight, like cadets, to try and give each other a bit of the comfort the Senator was obviously taking from her mother. 

He squashed down jealousy. Riyo deserved a mother who loved her, even if the Clones didn’t have one. 

He almost didn’t notice Riyo’s mother disentangling herself from her daughter and noticing the rest of the troop. Her reaction was incredibly odd; unlike a Coruscanti natborn, she was delighted to meet Clones. 

“Are these your friends?” She asked smiling. 

“Yes, Yma, this is Commander Fox, Commander Thire, Splat, Clank-it, Routine, and Stabby,” the Senator gestured to each Clone as she named them. 

Fox stepped forward, with his hand held out for a shake, “Mrs. Chuchi.”

Thire was fairly sure Pantorans did handshakes. He could be wrong, because Riyo’s mom brushed right past Fox’s outstretched hand and gave him a hug only slightly less intense than she gave her daughter. Fox simply froze at first, and after a couple of seconds hugged gently back. 

Thire wished he could see Fox’s face under the helmet. A couple of seconds later, he had a pretty good idea of what it was, as he was making it himself. Mrs. Chuchi was hugging him. 

It felt nice. Was this what having a mom feels like?

The unstoppable Mrs. Chuchi made her way through the rest of the troopers in short order. 

Fox, evidently, had finally mentally reset enough to get his brain running and his mouth working as well. 

“Mrs. Chuchi-“ he began.

“Call me Yma, everyone does,” the older Pantoran woman said warmly. 

“Yma, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Fox said. 

The rest of the troop followed their Commander’s lead and exchanged pleasantries with Yma, who led them out of the ship, talking in a welcoming tone. 

“You simply must go on a walk with me when you’re here, Riyo has told me so much about all of you, you know. What’s your favorite kinds of cookie?” She asked. 

Thire, still processing that Senator Chuchi had apparently written home about them and nervously wondering what she had told her mother about him, blinked. The subject change was much more abrupt than he was used to. Luckily, Splat thought faster on his feet. 

“Ah, bitter-berry white choco?” He asked more than told. 

“Ah, a local favorite! And the rest of you?” She turned to the rest of the troop. 

“Oh, that’s all of our favorite, ma’am,” Routine said absently. 

“Yma, Routine, call me Yma. And how do you know it’s everyone’s favorite?” She asked archly. 

“Well, it’s the only kind of cookie we’ve had,” Clank-it said a bit nervously. 

Mrs. Chuchi froze, obviously shaken, but shook her head and turned to face them. Thire thanked his lucky stars that she didn’t have pity on her face. 

“Well, that just won’t do!” She exclaimed, “Young men, I am going to organize a bake-off between the farmsteads of Little Boulder! You are to be the judges, and you will try every kind of cookie every stead-wife from here to Taiga Meadows knows how to make!”

Thire was almost too dazed to notice the whispering over the comm. 

“If she were Chancellor, the war would have been over in a week,” Stabby whispered over helmet comm. 

Thire couldn’t disagree. He had the oddest mental image of her absolutely bulldozing Count Dooku in a verbal argument and then subduing him with pastry. 

...

Fox was feeling more than a little overwhelmed. Riyo’s descriptions of her mother did not do the woman justice. Right this moment, she was marshaling his brothers in an effort to secure the perimeter of the house. Mostly, he suspected, for his brother’s peace of mind than for any real concern. 

He couldn’t shake he feeling that his brothers weren’t too worried either. They’d all taken their helmets off within a minute of meeting Yma, including Fox. She had that effect on people. 

Riyo mentioned the letters she got from her Yma sometimes, how it was big news when a lost bantha knocked over someone’s fence. Rural communities, she laughed, like Fox would know a thing about what she was talking about. He didn’t think Kamino really counted. 

Riyo reached out and took his hand, like she did when they were walking through the halls of the Senate late at night. She worked late on the days that he had night patrol, so they could spend some time together as he walked her to her speeder. Some days he thought their little talks were all that kept him sane. 

“You look like you’ve been sleeping,” she said quietly, “And I like your hair.”

It took effort to not reach up and try to fix the strands he knew were out of place. He wasn’t in the Senate, he didn’t need to look perfect. He simply squeezed her hand a bit, instead. 

“Thank you,” He murmured, watching Yma match the correct name to each of his brothers to divide them up to check the barn and toolshed. 

“Is your mother Force-sensitive?” He asked confusedly. The only other people he’d seen be able to differentiate Clones so quickly were Jedi. Unlike some of the Combat battalions, the Coruscant Guard never quite dared to get facial markings, and most of them kept their hair in some form of regulation haircut. To an untrained eye, Clank-it and Splat looked identical, haircut, armor, and all. 

“No...” Riyo replied confusedly. 

“She tells Splat and Clank-it apart with almost uncanny accuracy,” he continued. 

Riyo laughed. 

“I forgot humans can’t see their stripes!” She returned merrily. 

“...Stripes?” Now Fox was just confused. 

“Skin lines (1), I think they’re called in Humans. Sorry if I was offensive,” Riyo said. 

Fox shook his head. 

“No, you weren’t, I just never knew I had stripes. Do they look okay?” He asked worriedly. He hoped he was still presentable. 

“They look quite fetching, to me! I see in a slightly different spectrum than you do, which is why I can see them and you didn’t even know they existed. Splat and Clank-it look quite different to me and Yma. For that matter, you all look quite different from each other,” she continued. 

“Oh,” Fox mulled over. It was nice to be told he was unique and didn’t look like anyone else. 

“I think it’s time for dinner now,” Riyo said as she waved goodbye to their pilot, who apparently lived on the next homestead over. She motioned to Yma standing on the porch and looking at them intently. 

“Why is she looking at us like that?” Fox whispered. 

“Oh, holding hands is a pretty romantic gesture to a woman of my Yma’s generation,” Riyo mentioned, “But to my generation, it’s more casual. Don’t worry, she knows this.”

This did not actually stop Fox from worrying. 

...

Riyo was fudging a little when she said hand-holding was more casual for a woman of her age. It was, for an ordinary Pantoran girl. But she was the Senator for Pantora, and was expected to hold with the older traditions. However, she was at home with only her mother to see her. She could hold her best friend’s hand if she wanted. 

It was the only comfort she could give him, some days, in the awful darkness of the Senate. It was worth too much to both of them for her to give it up because of an old cultural norm. 

She went inside to find the rest of the Guard already seated at the table and her mother serving dinner. It was one of her favorites; grass-bird soup with tubers and root vegetables. 

She and Fox sat down and participated in the blessing of the meal by the Remembrance of the Absent, where each person at the table named their family members who had died. 

She had no idea how many of Fox’s brothers had died, even when only speaking of his batch. She suddenly felt grateful that the only name she had to say was her father’s, even though she missed her Ypa dearly. 

The mood was sober, but watching the Clones try Yma’s cooking for the first time quickly lightened it. Splat, being the most hasty of the group, had a spoon in his mouth just barely after they had finished Remembrance. 

His eyes widened. His face smoothed out. He appeared to be trying to suck the spoon bowl off the handle. 

“This ish the besth thing I’ve efer ea’en!” He murmured, somehow able to make himself understood around the spoon. 

Fox sighed. 

“I know I taught you table manners, Splat, use them,” he muttered. 

Riyo patted his shoulder, aware that her Yma was watching them like a hawk. 

“It’s not a formal dinner, Fox,” She consoled. 

“We should still respect your mother’s table, Riyo,” Fox sighed tiredly back. Yma beamed at him and passed him an extra slice of cob-grain bread. Yma was always a fan of a respectful gentleman.

His other brothers began to eat more sedately, though still with wonder on their faces, and Splat calmed down a little. 

“This is the best food we’ve ever had, ma’am,” Routine told Yma after they had finished. 

“Well, I can’t claim to be the best cook in the galaxy, but I can make a good soup, or my name’s not Yaro Chuchi!” She replied. 

She watched Fox blink. Oh dear. She never had explained that, had she?

“I thought your name was Yma?” Stabby ventured cautiously. Despite his name, he was a timid sort with people who weren’t his brothers. 

Riyo cut in to try and do damage control. 

“Coruscanti children have moms, Pantoran children have Ymas,” she explained quickly. 

Perhaps this was just a can of worms the Guard would take time to work though. 

“Oh,” Thire said, absently. 

“Are you sure you want us to call you our mother?” Ventured Clank-it, never one for dancing around unpleasant conversation. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Yma returned, “Unless it’s offensive. Do you have someone you already call mother?” She asked worriedly. 

Fox, ever the spokesman for the group, shook his head. 

“No, it’s not offensive at all. We’re honored,” he said. 

Yma gave him a small smile. 

“You didn’t think it odd that my daughter would call me my first name?” She asked. 

“Clones normally call older brothers by their first name. Mostly ‘cuz we only have one name. Older brothers are the closest most Clones have to parents,” Splat put in. 

“I’m glad you have them, then, but at least to us natborns, it’s not quite the same,” Yma said gently. 

“I call Alpha by his first name,” returned Fox. 

“Alpha?” Riyo questioned. The name had come up in conversation, but she had thought that Alpha was one of his brothers. 

Fox gave a reminiscent smile. 

“Alpha-34, My CC trainer. He looked after my batch. He gave us candy, once, that he’d found hidden in one of the Cuy’Val Dar’s (2) stashes. Best thing I ever tasted until those cookies you sent us, Riyo,” he replied. 

“Hey, Tate never gave us candy!” Thire mock objected, eliciting giggles from the men. Fox just gave him a flat look. 

“Isn’t he the one who made that misshapen lump of fluff you used to carry with you everywhere in your belt?” He asked pointedly. 

Riyo had never seen Thire go that red before. 

“Tate?” Yma asked eagerly. She probably wanted someone else to love these men. She always believed that everyone should be loved. 

“Alpha-28, my CC trainer. He made us all little pompoms once out of old blankets,” Thire mentioned embarrassedly. His hand went to the little pouch on his belt that Riyo knew the Clones kept for personal use: mementos, flimsi lists, an extra ration bar. He drew out a ball of fluff that might once have resembled a fuzzy sphere, but now mostly resembled lint. 

Riyo looked at her Yma, only to see the woman melt. 

“I would love to meet Alpha and Tate,” she said warmly. 

“They’re on Dantooine right now, probably being driven crazy by new and interesting classes of Cadets,” Fox replied. 

Thire smirked, probably thinking of some of the cadets and the occasional Padawan that Tate complained about frequently. 

“Though I’m sure they’d love to meet you,” he added on to his brother’s speech. 

“I can give Tate an introduction to some other fiber arts, though he obviously makes good pompoms, to have held up so long,” Yma smiled. 

Riyo also smiled. It looked like the ice had been broken. Hopefully it would be downhill from here. 

...

Thire was amazed. They were welcomed to the Senator’s house (call me Riyo, she’d said, like they were equals) by the Sen- Riyo’s amazing mother, and she fed them, and liked listening to them, and said to call her Yma which meant mom, and she was going to talk to Tate about more things he could do with yarn? 

Apparently Riyo being so nice to Clones was genetic. Now if only there were more Chuchis. 

It was after dinner, and after a dessert that was even better than the cookies Riyo had given the Guard; it was some kind of pastry stuffed with local fruit. Every Clone had taken seconds of dessert, even after the thirds of dinner, so Thire was feeling pleasantly over-full for the first time in his life. Yma was over the moon that her food was so delicious to the men. 

Fox had assigned Routine and Stabby, the most coordinated of the men present, to help Yma with the dishes. They obeyed with minimal wobbling and groaning. Thire had excused himself shortly afterwards to comm Tate. 

He might have forgotten the conversion for Dantooine-to-Pantora time, however, because instead of a gruff Alpha Clone in armor, he got a sleepy Alpha Clone in pajamas. Well, blacks, which most clones used as pajamas. 

Oops. 

“Whass’wrong?” Tate yawned. 

“Nothing, Tate. Forgot the time difference. Go back to sleep,” Thire tried to gently reassure the man. 

“No use in that. I need to be up in an hour anyway,” Tate shrugged, “What’re you calling me about?”

“This wasn’t a state visit,” Thire grinned, “Senator Chuchi took us back to her homestead on Pantora. Her mom, the local word for a mother is Yma, wants to teach you yarn crafts.”

Tate looked suspicious. That was hurtful. 

“And why does the mother of the Senator you think hung the stars know that I like to make stuff with yarn?” He asked pointedly, still leery. 

“I might have showed her my critter?” Thire said quietly. 

When Tate had given them the little pompoms, he had called them critters. Said that they were a friend you could always have with you, even during the solo missions the CC cadets was so terrified of. The name had stuck. 

“You still have that?” Tate looked, for a single solitary moment, incredibly touched. Then he realized something. 

“Was Fox there?” Tate asked resignedly. 

“Yeah, he was. We were talking about our Alphas. Yma had asked if we had any parents, so we put you on the spot,” Thire smiled gently. 

Tate smiled back, hesitantly. His looked drooped to annoyance quickly, though. 

“34 is going to tease the life out of me, you understand,” he muttered. 

Thire grinned back. 

“That’s the beauty of it. I have it from a credible source that Alpha-34 stole candy from some Cuy’Val Dar’s hidden stash and gave it to his kids once,” he sniggered. 

Tate’s eyes lit up. 

“No way,” he breathed, smile turning to a grin, “He gave his kids candy? How was he not found out?”

Thire shrugged, “I don’t know. My source didn’t say. But I think there is no more reliable source than the one I have.”

“Thire, you’re officially my new favorite. Oh, I can tease 34 for weeks with- gak!”

Tate started to choke on air, or so it looked. 

“Are you alright? Thire asked with concern. He’d just gotten Tate to smile, he didn’t want to lose him now. 

“Fine,” Tate managed after a moment, “Just inhaled a bit of grass.”

Thire started to have a suspicion. It was not a good suspicion. 

“Tate,” he sighed, where are you sleeping?”

The older man looked shifty. 

“In my room,” he said, exaggeratedly even. 

“And is your room aboard a ship?” Thire pressed. 

Tate sighed. 

“No, Thir’ika (3), I don’t have a room aboard ship when I’m planetside. Everywhere is full, and I don’t want to be a bother. I’m in a tent about a klik from the _Liberator_.”

“You could stay in my room on the _Circle_! I’m not using it!” Thire objected. 

“And when you come back?” Tate raised his eyebrow. 

Thire hated how logical he was being with all of this, because the logic worked only if you thought yourself lesser than everyone else. 

Cody had taken him aside and told him something a while back- the Alphas are not okay. No kriffing kark. 

“Then we can bunk together, like we did when I was three and had those night terrors about drowning. There’s space for two berths in my room; I got the long straw, so I actually have the full Commander’s quarters. Please, Tate,” he pleaded. 

It was winter. Winter was unpredictable on a planet like Dantooine; it could be crisp, cold, and clear, like it had been so far, or it could turn into a deluge of snow and ice that could collapse tents. He needed to get Tate inside before the weather changed. 

Tate was silent for a while, thinking. 

“Alright,” he allowed, “I’ll bunk with you. And it doesn’t work out -don’t try and interrupt me, sometimes these things just don’t work out- I’ll pitch tent in Hydro Bay 4. Are you happy?” He grunted. 

“Yes,” Thire put on his most mock annoying face. Hydro Bay 4 was climate controlled and had a sturdy roof. It was better than Tate sleeping outside, though Thire vowed silently that Tate wouldn’t be moving out of his quarters until spring at least. 

He and Tate talked for a little while longer, then Tate decided to go for an early morning run. He signed off with a fond smile, and Thire sat on his bed for a moment before finding Fox. 

Luckily, he wasn’t alone with Riyo. He’d hate to interrupt them. He was still in the kitchen with Riyo and Yma, though the troopers seemed to have gone to bed. 

Fox looked up as he entered. Thire put a hand on the other Commander’s shoulder tiredly. 

“Check on 34 before you go to bed tonight. I just found out that Tate was sleeping in a tent instead of aboard ship,” he sighed. 

“Cody mentioned that 17 was doing that. I’d hoped the rest had better sense,” Fox muttered back. 

“Of course they don’t,” Thire snorted. Fox nodded wearily and went to check on his Alpha. 

...

Fox was somewhat annoyed, and mostly concerned. He was having a wonderful time speaking with Yma and Riyo, and then Thire comes in to tell him that his idiot Alpha may well be prepared to sleep kriffing outside for the entire karking winter. 

Alpha needed help. If only he would accept this. 

“Alpha!” He snapped into the comm, “Location update!”

“Sleeping!” Alpha snapped back. 

Fox had inherited his temper from Alpha. It made communication interesting between them. 

“Location update!” He insisted again. 

“Three kliks from the _Circle of Steel_ , sir,” Alpha replied sarcastically. Fox was a Commander First Class, equivalent to a Marshall Commander, but he never would outrank Alpha. 

“And why are you not on the _Circle of Steel_?” Fox sighed. He’d hoped that the conversation they’d had was enough. He’d hoped Alpha wasn’t having the same problems Fox was. 

“You don’t want me around kids,” Alpha said in a deadpan tone that was also, somehow, simultaneously sardonic and calling Fox’s sanity into question. 

“Oh deary me, no. You might give them stolen candy,” Fox returned, also sardonically. It was the best way for them to keep their tempers, they had discovered, to be sarcastic. Saying what they really meant directly tended to get insulting very fast. 

“I might do worse,” Alpha growled. 

“You might take up arts and crafts and make them little friends?” Fox tried, mock innocently. 

“Wha- no, not going there. You know very well what I might do,” Alpha growled more menacingly. 

“I remember a lot of stuff the Kaminoans did, and some stuff they made you do, but nothing you did,” Fox returned thoughtfully. 

“Kark it, Fox, I can’t be around kids! I look at them and see you, all bruised up and snarling anyway! Or ‘27, trying to play doctor. Or ‘34 laughing in the rain,” Alpha started at a shout and ended at a whisper. 

‘27 and ‘34 had been the first brothers Fox had lost; one to the Kaminoan scientists, and one to the Kaminoan oceans. To this day, Fox hated water deeper than he could stand in. And the Kaminoan scientists, but that went without saying. 

“This is going to ruin my reputation,” Fox muttered, and took a deep breath, “You were our hero, when we were littler. You stole candy for us. You let us sneak out and look at the stars the one day a year it stopped raining. And nothing the Kaminoans or those dar’manda (4) said or did ever hurt you. We wanted to be just like you when we grew up.”

Alpha’s eyes grew wide before they shuttered again. 

“You were kids, of course you looked up to the one taking care of you,” he muttered. 

So close. Fox was _so close_. 

“Fine, Alpha, if you don’t deserve a place at the table, then neither do I,” Fox pulled out his trump card. It got a reaction- Alpha’s eyes got really wide really fast. 

“Of course you deserve-“ Alpha began in a rage. 

“Palpatine got in my head. He almost made me kill our little brother Fives, and look the other way when the Guards came back from certain Senators bruised. He made me overlook a war that killed brothers every day. If you deserve to be outcast, I deserve to be killed,” Fox grit. 

Alpha opened and closed his mouth like a fish. His eyes shattered, and he wrapped his arms around his back in the parody of parade rest that Fox knew the Alphas used to comfort themselves. His eyes were suspiciously wet. 

Fox wished he was there. He wished he knew who he could call to give Alpha a hug. 

“I wish I was able to protect you,” Alpha whispered. 

“It’s not your fault or your failing, Alpha,” Fox quietly replied, “There is evil in the galaxy, and it likes to prey on those who can’t fight it. You see it often in the lower levels of Coruscant.”

“Well then, I suppose it’s a good thing there are those who stand against it,” Alpha rallied, but Fox could still see the glimmer in the corners of his eyes. 

“It is,” Fox smiled tentatively back. 

“I need to get ready for my day, Fox’ika,” Alpha mentioned a bit too casually. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” Fox replied, and cut the connection. 

He needed someone on Dantooine to keep an eye on Tate and Alpha. He needed someone with some kind of command rank to bully them onto the _Circle of Steel_ if necessary. 

He sighed deeply. There was only one man... if he could be called a man and not a lunatic... that fit this criteria. He punched in the code for Quinlan Vos. 

...

Riyo knocked on the door to Fox and Thire’s room. Thire had been subdued, when he had sat down and told her and Yma what was wrong. How their parents were isolating themselves from their society out of guilt. How they were scared that Tate and Alpha would just wander off into the prairies one day and never come back. 

Fox called for her to come in. He was sitting on his bed, with a commlink in his hand. 

He looked at her with dull eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Riyo,” he whispered, “I just want him to be okay.”

“I do too,” she told him. She had never met Alpha-34, but she had heard the way Fox always spoke of the man, with fondness and admiration. She had guessed that Alpha was his parent before he ever told her simply from the light in his eyes when Fox talked about him. 

“When my Ypa died, Yma was devastated,” she began softly, sitting on the bed beside Fox, “I never knew how much until I went to the outbuilding one night to try and find a fastener-driver, and found her there, crying her heart out. I wasn’t an adult yet, in mid adolescence, and had no idea what to do. So I went back to my room and cried myself. I knew that Ypa’s passing hurt her more than it even hurt me, but I had just wanted her to be okay.”

“Yeah. Alpha thinks it’s his fault, the things I had to do at Kamino,” Fox whispered. Riyo put her hand on top of his. Fox had never told her about Kamino in its entirely, just that it gave every Clone nightmares. 

He grasped her hand firmly, like a lifeline. 

“It’s not, though. The Alphas were the first mass-produced Clones, there was a batch of 100 made, tested, and trained by the instructors there and the scientists. None of the Alphas talk about their childhood, but from the way they act, it was awful. I think they were punished for showing emotion. It took forever for me to get Alpha properly mad at me, instead of just irritated.”

Both of Riyo’s and Fox’s hands were tangled together now. Fox squeezed her hands and sighed. 

“Then, when the Alphas were seven, they gave them us, the CCs. We were decanted in batches of 36, and each Alpha got a squad of 12 two-year-olds. The Alphas were told that if we didn’t meet standards, we would be taken away, and trained just like they were. 

“They knew that was wrong even then, so they took us in and trained the living daylights out of us where the Kaminoans would see. Some of that training was certainly abusive by any definition of the word. They’ve never forgiven themselves for that.” He sighed. 

Riyo gently extricated her hand from his and rested it on his shoulder. He leaned into her touch, with almost none of the hesitation that had marked their interactions at Coruscant. 

He sighed again. 

“But they forget, I think, about what they did when the Kaminoans couldn’t see. The candy, and that absurd little fluff ball of Thire’s that he loves so much, and Wolffe told me once that his Alpha told stories, and letting us sleep in their bunk when we had nightmares, and giving us some of their own rations when we were growing and there wasn’t enough food on the planet to get us full. That’s what we love them for, the stuff they forgot,” he finished sadly. 

“Perhaps you could remind them?” Riyo suggested, gently and neutrally. 

“You have good ideas,” murmured Fox. 

Riyo smiled. Fox still thought she hung the stars sometimes, or, as he joked once, at least one star. 

Then again, sometimes she caught herself thinking there was nothing he couldn’t do when he set his mind to it. 

“I try,” she joked, “Are you going to be okay?” 

Fox leaned into her hand in his shoulder again. 

“I will be. Thank you for talking me through this,” he put his hand on hers again. 

She had an eccentric thought. Or, at least, that was her excuse for hugging him. He stiffened in surprise for a moment before hugging back. 

Ahsoka was right. Clones gave great hugs. 

“It’s going to be alright,” she whispered, because she thought he needed to hear it. 

“Thank you,” he whispered back, “Can you tell me about your Ypa?”

She gently pulled away from the hug, searched his face, and nodded. 

Her Ypa and Fox would have gotten along quite well, both being gruff and intelligent, but actually being utter softies. So she told him about how he would pick her up onto his shoulders, and laugh, and how after a long, hard day of harvest work, they would all go to the kitchen and have some of the moonshine their cousins made. Even Riyo, in her teen years, got a small glass; her Ypa had said that she’d done an adult’s work, so she should get an adult’s reward. She told him how Ypa and Yma had loved each other so, singing love ballads together and always supporting each other. 

“Thank you for being here,” she whispered, “I think Yma gets lonely when I’m gone.”

“I could assign some Guardsmen to her, help her with the homestead,” Fox offered. 

“She would never want to take them away from their brothers,” Riyo replied. 

“For her cooking, it may be worth it. She could come back to Dantooine with us, and probably be worshipped as some kind of culinary goddess,” he offered half-facetiously. 

“She’d never want to leave the homestead for too long, Ypa’s buried here. But a visit could probably work,” she mused. 

“We can find a place for her,” Fox promised, “There will always be a place for you and yours on Dantooine, Riyo.”

...

Thire couldn’t help a grin. His ear was going numb, pressed up against the door to the room Riyo and Fox were in, but he wasn’t missing this conversation for the world. 

Yma grinned back. She had had the good sense to get a drinking glass from the kitchen, to amplify the sound. Thire was tempted to retrieve one as well, but then he might miss something. 

Fox had just promised Riyo to save a place for her! That was practically tantamount to courtship!

However, their conversation was winding down, and if Fox caught him in this position, latrine duty would be the least of his worries. He jumped up quickly and quietly, and gave a hand to Yma, and they both meandered back to the kitchen. 

“I am starting to realize that there is a reason Commander Fox showed up the most in her messages home,” Yma said dryly. 

“The Guard has had a betting pool for two standard years about them,” Thire returned equally dryly. 

“Do they know this?” Yma asked. 

“No, that’d contaminate the result of the betting pool,” Thire confessed. 

“Ah.”

“Indeed.”

The silence stretched for a minute. 

“This has really been going on for years?” Yma asked. 

“Sort of,” Thire replied, “They’re both very conscientious people, so they’re very aware of appearance of abuse of power. It doesn’t help that your daughter used to be really shy, and Fox is incredibly reserved to this day. Also, the Supreme Sleemo-“

Yma gave him a confused look. 

“Palpatine, that is, it’s one of the Guard’s nicknames for him, really messed with Fox’s head and self-worth. He’s still trying to get out of that pit. Neither of them have really realized that they like each other back,” Thire finished. 

“Well that just won’t do!” Yma frowned. 

“I must confess,” Thire said, “I thought you’d be much more against your daughter and a Clone falling in love with each other.”

“You and Fox are people, just like Chuchi and I, I see no reason to object,” Yma replied. 

She smiled again, suddenly. 

“And, Thire, it is the duty of every Pantoran mother to make sure her daughter finds a kind man with a steady job and a strong duty to and love for his family. Fox is very desirable by Pantoran standards.” 

“Ah.”

“Indeed!”

Thire’s comm took that moment to chime. He answered it. He soon regretted that decision. 

“WHAT THE KRIFF DID YOU DO!?” Tate yelled at him. Thire blinked dazedly; the last time he’d heard that voice, he’d somehow managed to shoot both Alpha-56 and himself in the foot with a training blaster. With the same bolt. 

“I’ve been sitting here talking with Mrs. Chuchi?” He tried, hesitantly. 

“Then why have I been kidnapped by a crazy Jedi? More importantly, why have I been kidnapped by YOUR crazy Jedi?” Tate growled. 

“Because he’s crazy, I don’t know!” Thire threw his hands up. Yma was valiantly trying not to snicker. 

There was a brief scuffle on the other end of the comm and Tate’s image was replaced by Vos’s. 

“Thire! Lovely to see you. I thought I’d confiscated all communications devices from them. Sorry to bother you! Bye!” The man chirped. Yma lost her battle with snickering. 

“No you don’t!” Thire barked, in his best Mace Windu impression. Vos froze. 

“That’s really quite impressive and slightly terrifying how you can do that, Thire,” The Jedi said slowly. Yma’s snickers turned into full-on laughter. 

“Why did you kidnap my Alpha?” Thire asked, again in his Mace Windu impression. It mostly involved speaking slowly and deeply, with a specific kind of glare. 

“34’s here too!” Tate yelled from off-projection. 

“Why did you kidnap my and Fox’s Alphas?” Thire rephrased his question. 

“Fox told me to get them inside one way or the other,” Thire shrugged. 

“Fox’ika, you’re dead meat!” Came from off-projection. It was probably 34, but Tate also sounded like that when he got mad enough. 

“He’s your kid, infanticide is discouraged in most cultures!” Vos yelled back. Definitely 34, then. 

34 replied something unprintable. 

“Hey, watch your mouth! There’s a lady present!” Thire scolded. Said lady had almost fallen off of her kitchen chair from laugher. 

“There is?” Vos blinked, “Ah, yes, the Senator! Hello, Senator Chuchi, has Fox told you he thinks you’re the prettiest star in the galaxy yet?”

This time, Yma did fall off the chair. Luckily, Thire caught her. However, his sudden shift to her side had brought her into the comm’s recording field. 

“That’s not Senator Chuchi,” Vos blinked. 

“No, it’s her mother,” Thire sighed, patting Yma on the back as she wound down laughing. 

Vos blinked again. 

“Oh, I haven’t laughed like that in years,” Yma wheezed. 

Vos, impossibly, was wearing a self-conscious look in the hologram. Thire could wish that he had that look more often. 

...

Fox walked in to a sight he did not expect to see: Quinlan Vos, in holographic form, looking sheepishly and apologetically at Yma. He immediately grew worried. 

Next to him, Riyo put her hand over her mouth to hid a smile. 

“Sorry, Mrs. Chuchi,” Vos muttered. 

“You never need to apologize for giving an old woman a good laugh,” Yma said warmly. 

Fox’s suspicions immediately ratcheted up three more notches. 

“Vos, to what do we owe the pleasure?” He asked briskly. 

Yma smiled disarmingly at him. He was accordingly disarmed. 

He was so disarmed that when he heard Yma say “I was just inviting Master Jedi Vos over for dinner” that he almost didn’t register it. 

His gaze snapped to Yma as soon as he had finished processing the words. He didn’t notice Vos doing the same thing. 

“What?” If a man of Fox’s size could be said to squeak, then Fox squeaked. He preferred to think of it as a manly warble. 

“Master Jedi Vos is going to come over for dinner tomorrow,” Yma told him. 

This time it was Vos who squeaked. 

Yma gave him a significant look. 

“I’ll be there. Can I bring two guests?” He asked meekly. 

“Wonderful idea!” Yma grinned. 

“Thank you ma’am,” Vos bowed and cut the connection. 

Funny, Fox could almost swear he heard yelling in the background of the holo. Vos must be attending a murderball game or something. 

“Well then, it’s been a long night, everyone. Isn’t it past your bedtime, young lady?” Yma questioned Riyo only half-jokingly. 

Fox gave Riyo a doubtful look. She had stayed up much later than this doing paperwork at the Senate. She shot him a ‘don’t you dare tell her’ glare. 

Well then. 

“I’ll walk you to your room, then retire myself. I’m bushed,” Fox admitted. He held out his arm by habit, then froze, remembering just where they were. 

He glared at Thire, just daring him to make a comment. Yma simply looked like that tooka that got the cream. Did she really want Vos over for dinner that much?

Riyo gracefully took his arm and they walked to her room. 

“Your brother is up to something,” Riyo murmured. 

“No karking kriff, pardon my Huttese,” he returned. 

“I’ve heard worse that time Stone and I were trapped in a turbolift for eight hours,” she admitted, “I may have taught Stone some Pantoran ones too.”

“I was wondering where he learned those from,” Fox chuckled. 

They had reached Riyo’s door, so he disconnected their arms and moved to open the door for her. As soon as he got the door open, Riyo patted his shoulder. 

“Good night, Fox,” she said, and kissed him on the cheek. She immediately walked into her room, smiled at him, and gently shut the door. 

Fox stared at the door for several minutes before he regained cognitive function. He gently put his hand to the side of his face; he could swear he could still feel her lips there. 

This was dangerous territory for his thoughts to be wandering into. He needed sleep. Sleep sounded good. 

He wandered back to his room still somewhat dazedly. It wasn’t until Thire gave him a knowing grin that he realized his hand was still on the side of his face. 

Why did he like Thire again? 

Oh, right, Thire was his brother. Well, fratricide was always an option. 

“If you say one word, I will demote you down to Cadet,” he threatened. Thire kept grinning. 

“I didn’t say anything, Commander Fox Sir!” He mock saluted. 

“Go to sleep,” Fox grunted irritably. He stripped his armor down to his blacks and turned off the light, uncaring that his di’kut vod (5) was still in full armor. If he wanted to waste time teasing Fox instead of getting ready for bed, then he could kriffing well sleep in his armor and _deal_ with the backache. 

The bed was comfortable, with a quilt that was probably handmade and a fluffy pillow stuffed with real feathers. Despite the bed, though, Fox laid awake for quite some time, thinking of Riyo’s eyes, and the way her hand felt in his, and how she cared for his brothers almost as much as he did. 

When he fell asleep, it was pleasant dreams. The only thing he remembered when he woke was the sound of her laughter. 

...

Riyo could not believe herself. She really couldn’t. She had kissed Fox! On the cheek, but still. She had been so committed to making sure he was in a good state of mind, and able to make clear decisions about relationships, and then it all went out the speeder window when he walked her to her room like a gentleman from a historical holo!

And his hair was just so nice, and he smiled at her like she was the most precious thing he’d ever seen, and the light in his eyes that had steadily dimmed through their years on Coruscant was shining brightly again. 

She put her hands over her eyes, and groaned. At least he hadn’t pushed her away. That was a comfort. She’d shocked him, definitely, but she hadn’t scared him, or repulsed him. She didn’t think she could live with herself if she had hurt him. 

Well, there was nothing for it now. She was fine skirting the bounds of impropriety by holding Fox’s hand, but it was something different entirely to show up at the door of not one but two unattached men at night. Her mother might be willing to look a different way for the former, but definitely not for the latter. And she wouldn’t subject Fox and Thire to scrutiny like that. 

Plus Thire would probably tease Fox to death, and if Fox was dead, he couldn’t hold her hand anymore. 

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Best to just go to bed, she mused, it’ll seem clearer in the morning. She was very tired, so she quickly put on her sleeping clothes, brushed and braided her hair to keep it from tangling, fell into bed and knew no more until the sun shone through her window in the morning. 

Unfortunately, morning did not bring any clarity to her thoughts. She wasn’t awake, she wasn’t sure what to do, and somehow Fox looked no less attractive with bedhead when he waved to her from the breakfast table when she stumbled out to get caf. 

“Morning,” he grunted into his own cup of caf. Thire, sitting next to him gingerly like he was sore, nodded at her politely. 

They all jumped when a massive CLANG came from the room the four troopers were staying in. 

“Kark it, Clank-it!” Fox yelled. 

Riyo suddenly had a sneaking suspicion how Clank-it got his name. 

“Casualties?” Thire yelled. 

“Just me and Splat!” Clank-it shouted back cheerfully. 

Yma, standing in the corner of the kitchen, started laughing. The troopers were good for her; Riyo was afraid she was lonely in the empty homestead. 

Stabby, who was sitting quietly at the table with his COs, sighed and got up, probably to help his brothers. 

“Every morning, I swear, it happens every morning,” Fox muttered. Thire patted his back stiffly but sympathetically. 

Riyo couldn’t stop herself from giggling. 

“What, precisely, happens?” She asked, once she had gotten control of herself. 

“Clank-it, in addition to possessing various talents and traits that make him an admirable Guardsman, possesses a trait and a talent that have given him his name,” Thire grinned amusedly, “The trait is unfortunate clumsiness in the morning. The talent is somehow finding the loudest possible thing for him to fall onto and then proceed to collide with it.”

“Every morning?” Riyo couldn’t help but ask. 

“Every morning,” nodded Thire, “We’ve done experiments with piles of pillows and piles of armor. Of the nine times we did the experiment, he knocked over the armor eight times.”

“And the ninth time?” Riyo knew the answer was bad, by the way Fox buried his face in his hands. 

“He knocked over the berth,” groaned Fox, “And it knocked over another berth, and it knocked over another berth, and so on, until half the barracks were on the floor.”

“That’s was the incident we named him for,” Thire added mischievously, “because when we thought the chain reaction was done and Fox started to yell at Clank-it, another berth fell over just as he was cussing at him.”

“I said ‘kark it, trooper,’ but all everyone else heard was the CLANK noise,” explained Fox, making a really impressive clanging, screeching sound effect. 

“CLANK-it, Trooper!” Laughed Thire, making a similar sound effect, “We just modified it to ‘Clank’ to make it easier to say on comms.”

The man himself took that moment to stumble into the kitchen. 

“I’m alive!” He raised his hands triumphantly. One had a small bacta-bandage across the knuckle. 

“I’m not sure I am,” Splat grumbled as he shuffled in. He had a thin bandage across the bridge of his nose, but he looked incredibly tired. 

Routine handed him a cup of caf sympathetically. 

“Oh, honey, it’ll be better soon,” Yma said, patting his shoulder. 

Splat mustered a smile at them both and then went to find a corner to brood over his caf in. 

“Something wrong? You don’t look like you’ve slept,” Fox noted. 

“I was sleeping near Clank-it. Makes me nervous. You never know what’ll happen,” came he somewhat coherent reply. 

Clank-it looked a little guilty. 

“Not really your fault, Clank,” added Splat, “Just how you are.”

Stabby patted Clank-it on the shoulder. Clank-it nodded and looked less guilty. 

“What time is Vos arriving?” Thire asked. 

Fox’s face dropped. 

“I’d hoped that conversation was a dream,” he muttered. 

Then he turned bright red and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. Had he thought her kissing him was a dream too?

...

Thire grinned behind his caf mug. Something had definitely happened between Fox and Riyo last night. He’d known it from the time Fox came wondering in with his hand to his cheek, face like a stunned anooba. 

He wagged his eyebrows at Yma, and she winked back. 

“He should be here by four hours after meridian, local time,” Yma answered his question. 

“And his guests?” Fox asked tiredly, “I am supposed to keep track of who is near the Senator, you understand, I’m the head of her security detail.”

“You really think Vos will bring anyone dangerous to the Senator here?” Thire replied archly. Really, Fox could stand to relax a trifle. 

How could Thire win that bet if Fox was too busy making sure the Senator was wrapped in bubble packaging to kiss her?

“Some could argue that Vos is a danger to the Senator,” Fox muttered. 

Thire waved his hand dismissively. 

“There’s no buildings high enough to jump off of around here, she’ll be fine,” he replied airily. 

“Jumping off buildings?” Yma said faintly. 

Thire and Fox both rushes to reassure her. 

“It was perfectly safe! Jedi kids do it all the time!” Thire said. 

At the same time, Fox replied with “Vos would never allow Riyo to be hurt!”

Riyo sighed. 

“I’ve told you about that one Senator, the sleaze ball who tries to flirt with me every time we have a meeting?” She explained to her mother. 

Yma nodded, with a less-than-pleased expression on her face. 

“Well, I was having a chat with Vos one time in my office when my secretary notified me that he was outside expecting a meeting; he knew I was in and wasn’t taking no for an answer.”

Fox’s face was steadily getting more and more hard. Senator Sleazeball might face difficulty next time Fox was on Coruscant. The Guard couldn’t do much, but they could tell the janitors, the few decent Senate Guardsmen, general aides, and other low-level staff to give people a hard time. The service personnel tended to stick together. Especially if it was Riyo the sleemo was harassing; she was always nice to everyone, even the janitors. 

“Vos must have seen the disgust on my face, because he opened the window, checked the wind with his finger, and invited me for a nice bout of free fall. I really didn’t want to see the Senator, so I accepted, and next thing I knew, we were out the window and screaming towards the Senatorial landing pad. It was great fun really,” Riyo finished. 

She snickered, “Sleazeball never did figure out how I got out of my office.”

Thire pulled out a chair for Yma to sit down, as she was fluttering at her heart with her hand. Fox’s fingers were twitching and he was muttering to himself. 

“Homicide is bad, Fox,” Thire felt the need to remind his brother, “It’s against the law.”

“Who says I’d get caught?” Fox growled. 

Riyo looked like she didn’t know whether to be touched or disturbed. Yma seemed to have settled on touched, but appeared to be chopping vegetables much more forcefully than was probably necessary. 

The troopers were watching the entire scenario with wide eyes, probably plotting what to tell their brothers back home. 

“You just admitted premeditating murder in front of five officers of the law,” Thire deadpanned. 

“And a Senator!” Riyo added smilingly. 

Fox just gave a deadpan look to them all and drank the rest of his caf in a single gulp. 

“I’m going to get ready. Rest assured, I won’t murder someone before my shower,” he grumbled, and left the table. 

Thire relaxed. Fox had turned his plan into a joke. He wouldn’t be carrying out. 

... Or would he?

...

Fox grumbled under his breath as he took a quick sonic shower. How dare someone harass Riyo? How dare someone wear her down to the point she found jumping out a window preferable to deal with them?

He had abandoned his murder plan, but that didn’t mean he could do nothing. He sent a couple of comm messages to some janitorial acquaintances of his. Sleazeball would have a much harder time cleaning up his office from now on. 

His thoughts turned to the other little revelation he’d had at the table: Riyo had actually kissed him last night. He hadn’t been dreaming. 

And Vos was apparently coming to the homestead later, but that was secondary. 

Riyo had kissed him! And smiled! 

... He didn’t know how to deal with this. He’d loved her for a while, but he knew well that he had nothing to give; no income, no stability, not even a family name. So he had been perfectly content to be her best friend; he didn’t want to do much else, anyway, than to hold her hand. 

But that kiss had been very nice. And the way she smiled at him was even nicer. 

He decided to take Vos’s advice about dressing well for pretty ladies, and got dressed in the fancy shirt and pants the Jedi has given him. It could only help with the dangerous idea that was forming as he went through his suitcase. 

Underneath his spare blacks, and even underneath the krifftastic armor they wore to disguise themselves as Senate Guards, was a shattered piece of gauntlet that he’d kept because of its shape. 

It was from the back of the hand, a palm-size flat plate. Or, well, it used to be. It had shattered into a shape reminiscent of a wide crescent, with the detailing on the gauntlet creating a nice pattern on the surface. He’d had Stone paint a beautiful intricate design on it, when they were both shiny, representing new beginnings. 

Fox had kept the piece as a reminder, mostly. Of when he was a shiny, and the world was still nice. But also because it was pretty, and he had few enough pretty things in life. He’d taken the time to file down the edges on it, so it wouldn’t puncture anything or crack further, and had used it kind of like a good luck charm for years. 

He’d also taken the time to bore a hole in the middle of the crescent, to attach it to the inside of armor. He’d been wearing it when he’d met Riyo, and became friends with her, and suddenly he didn’t need reminded that there were good things in the world outside of his brothers anymore. 

He fished around for a spare bootlace, and found one in a shade of black mixed with red that looked somewhat nice with the armor. He strung it through the hole with one of the prettier knots he knew, and tied it in the back, to make a somewhat passable necklace. 

Riyo had told him that Pantorans, like many cultures, signify romantic interest with jewelry. Necklaces to start courting, rings to engage, and bracelets to marry. And, well, Pantorans didn’t wear armor, so this was the closest he could probably get to giving her a piece of his, like Mandalorians did to signify romantic interest. 

Now to just figure out if he should give it to her. He’d seen pictures of Pantoran courtship necklaces; they were beautiful, ornate, made of precious metals and fine jewels. This was a piece of the most durable yet common substances in the galaxy tied with a piece of string. Nicely painted, admittedly, but nowhere near what a natborn could give her. 

He tucked it into his pocket anyway. Hope is a wonderful, dangerous thing. 

...

Riyo noticed that Fox looked very nice when he came back to the table for his second cup of coffee. He’d foregone his armor for the day, and instead wore civilian clothes. Nice civilian clothes; a white shirt with red embroidery, and black pants. 

Then again, she was always thinking he looked very nice recently. 

She had it bad. 

He looked a bit nervous, though. She hoped it wasn’t anything too bad. 

She decided to take a walk along the edge of her mother’s homestead, wander the fields and say hello to the banthas like she did when she was a girl. Naturally, Fox insisted she not go alone. 

She managed to talk him down to only one bodyguard accompanying her, and then suggested it be him. He capitulated surprisingly easily. 

And where had Thire gotten those pop-kernels from?

Fox only got more and more nervous as they walked, though, even when she slipped her hand into his to hold. She petted the banthas, and moved them to the North pasture for Yma. Then they walked the edge of a field, admiring the gold of the swaying grasses. 

Fox broke the silence that had built between them. 

“You did kiss me last night, didn’t you?” He sounded certain but also terrified. 

She hadn’t meant to scare him. 

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to force you, to scare you,” she tumbled over her words, trying to apologize. 

“That’s... not why I’m scared,” his voice had taken an odd tone to it, almost testing, “I quite liked it, actually.”

She nodded, not sure what to say. 

“I was wanting to know why you kissed me, is all,” Fox said, still nervous and testing, but gentle and awkward too. He was handsome when he was flustered. 

Oh, she had it really bad. 

“You’re smart, and kind, and I really like your stripes,” Riyo’s mouth said without her permission. She was in deep trouble. 

She didn’t want to pressure him. She didn’t want to lose his friendship; handsome or not, he was her closest friend. She needed to apologize. 

“I’m sorry, for making you uncomfortable. I wasn’t thinking-“ she started. 

Fox cut her off. 

“It was nice,” he nodded reassuringly, “I just wanted to be sure of something.”

He reached into his pocket, obviously trying incredibly hard to be casual. He drew out a necklace. 

Riyo’s hands went to her mouth. 

“I’d like to be able to hold your hand in front of your mother,” Fox smiled jokingly, “And I’m told there are other benefits too.”

His smile turned nervous. Scared. He shouldn’t ever look scared of her. 

“If you’ll have me, that is,” he murmured. 

She couldn’t contain herself anymore; she hugged him. 

“Of course I will have you, you silly, wonderful man,” she murmured into his ear, “I’ve been daydreaming about this for a year.”

“You have?” Fox’s voice is hopeful, and so happy. She’s so glad he’s happy. 

“I just wanted to be sure you wanted it too,” she replied. 

Fox’s eyes met hers in wonder. She wanted him to look at her like that forever. 

“Riyo Chuchi, how could I not? You’re the most beautiful woman in the galaxy,” he said in astonishment. 

“Well, when you put it like that...” Riyo trailed off, “I’d like to kiss you.”

“I’d like to kiss you too!” Fox jokes back, he’s the one giving her a kiss on the cheek this time. 

So that was why he had gone so still last night, Riyo thought as she put her hand to her cheek. It felt wonderful. 

She reached out to hold his hand again, and pulled him close. He leaned his forehead against hers, in the gesture he always referred to as a Keldabe Kiss. She’s seen him do it with his brothers in armor, and it had always seemed a gesture evocative of duty and devotion to family. Now, however, without a helmet, his eyes shining into hers, duty was the last thing on either of their minds. 

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” she murmured, “I was so worried for so long.”

“I could say the same,” Fox smiled gently, “Don’t worry anymore, Riyo. We made it.” 

“We made it,” she murmured back. 

They stood there, for a while, aware of nothing but each other and the wind rustling through the grass. 

...

Thire may have been decanted at night, but it wasn’t last night. When Fox and Riyo went on a walk, were gone for a while, and came back with new jewelry on the Senator, he had a clue something had happened. 

Based on Yma’s grin, and the way she had hugged him until he couldn’t breathe, something good. 

They were watching through the kitchen window as the two walked through the yard, hand in hand, feeding the nunas. 

“That necklace is made from his old gauntlet piece,” Thire whispered to Yma, “It’s a good luck charm. And giving a piece of armor is romantic, for us.” 

“It’s a courtship necklace,” Yma whispered back, “They’re a tradition here. He made her one from his armor?”

“Yes. See those red patterns? Stone painted him new beginnings, and good luck, and family, and duty on that gauntlet when it was new. Fox shattered it, one day, fighting a suspect, but he kept the piece with new-beginning-and-family on it. I had no idea he still had it.”

“It’s quite nice. And it’s good that he made it with something of his,” Yma said thoughtfully, “My grandmother could remember a time when courtship necklaces were never expensive baubles, they were handmade with care. Tiyo made my necklace from the handle of one of his tools.”

She touched the wooden bird on a string around her neck. 

“I still miss him, Thire,” she sighed. 

“I’m sorry he’s gone, I would have loved to meet him,” Thire replied, “But we will remember him; my people say no one is ever truly dead unless they are forgotten.”

“Your people are very wise, Thire,” she said. 

“Thank you. Speaking of my people, I need to comm my brothers and find out who won the bet,” Thire smirked. 

“Can I sit in? I’d like to congratulate the winner,” Yma smiled back. 

This would be interesting. 

He called the general command chat for the Guard; just high enough priority to make sure they didn’t skip the call to sleep in, or something, but not important enough to halt duty. 

“What is it?” Thorn looked tired. 

“It’s not my fault! Vos said he had an invitation to dinner this morning and I haven’t seen him since!” Stone replied. 

“I don’t think it’s about that, it was Thire who called the chat,” Hound cut in. 

“Don’t worry, men, Vos is coming towards me,” Thire mentioned. 

Stone blinked. 

“You asked for extra help?” He asked. 

“No, Senator Chuchi’s mother invited him to dinner,” Thire grinned. 

“Senator Chuchi has a mother?” Thorn looked a bit wide-eyed. 

“Of course she does, she’s not a Clone! What’s Mrs. Chuchi like?” Stone asked. 

“I like to think I’m fairly nice,” Yma put in. 

There was a silence on the comm line. 

“Hello, Mrs. Chuchi,” Stone put forward cautiously. 

“Call me Yma, unless you call someone else ‘Mom,’ in which case, call me Yaro,” Yma offered. 

“You want us to call you Yma? You’re not our mother,” Thorn put forward cautiously. 

“You knew Yma meant mom? Why didn’t you tell us?” Thire jumped in. 

“It wasn’t obvious? Natborns almost never refer to their parents by their names unless something’s wrong, and Yma and Ypa sound a bit too similar to be the first names of a couple,” Thorn replied. 

“Of course I want you to call me Yma! You’re Riyo’s friends,” Yma smiled gently. 

Stone appeared to be turning it over in his mind. Thire jumped in before the conversation got completely derailed. 

“Call the bet, boys; time of about an hour ago. Who won?” He asked. 

Hound spoke up, suddenly. 

“Wait, wait! Where’s the proof?” He asked. 

Thire shrugged, and opened a holo of Fox and Riyo feeding the nunas together in the chat. 

“You might not see it, but he gave her a necklace made of his armor,” he pointed out. 

“It’s a courtship necklace! In our culture, it signals his desire to instigate a formal relationship!” Yma cut in, smiling big enough to burst her face, “My little girl has a suitor!”

“Well, kark,” Stone draws, “Pardon my huttese, Mrs. Chu-“

“Mrs. Chuchi is my mother-in-law.” 

“Yma. He really figured it out,” Stone finished. 

Hound was looking through the secret bet-database on his holo-gauntlet.

“Let’s see, two years and seventeen days; the closes bet is Helo, he bet two years and one month.”

“Helo’s one of the patrol speeder pilots,” Thire explains to Yma. 

“Congratulations Helo! Now, I know that I have things to do, and I know you have things to do, Stone, so I think we should wrap this call up. Lovely to meet you, Yma,” Thorn said brusquely, though his voice soften when speaking to Yma. 

“It was nice to meet you too, dears!” Yma replied. 

The comm blinked off, and Yma patted Thire on the shoulder. 

“Your brothers are fine young men,” she said kindly. 

“Thank you, Yma,” Thire replied, not really knowing what else to say. 

...

Fox was having a wonderful day. He got to kiss Riyo! She loved him back! She was showing him how to feed nuna-birds! The sun was shining, the grass was golden, and the insects were singing. All was well with the world. 

Until, of course, the perimeter alarm rang. A ship was approaching. He sighed, and escorted Riyo inside. It was probably Vos, but it couldn’t hurt to make sure. 

“It’s Vos, isn’t it?” Fox asked, as soon as he was in the door. 

“Yep. I gave him clearance to land next to the Senator’s ship,” Thire said. 

“FOX’IKA WHERE THE KRIFF ARE YOU!” Came a faint furious bellow from that direction. 

Fox twitched. He knew that bellow. 

“That was not Vos,” he stated calmly. Factually. Trying to ignore Alpha-34’s obvious bloodlust. 

“He did bring guests,” Thire, the traitor, had his kriffing pop-kernels out again. 

“Riyo, I am very sorry to leave you a widow so soon into our relationship,” Fox apologized, because he didn’t know what else to do. 

Riyo chuckled. 

“Go outside and say hello to your Ypa, Fox,” she shook her head. 

“He’s not my Ypa! I just don’t want to get blood on Yma’s nice floor,” Fox muttered, and headed outside. 

But, well, the more he thought about it, maybe Alpha was his Ypa after all. Buir was probably the more accurate term, though. The thought did not really lift his mood; Alpha could give a lecture like no one else, parent or not. 

He was waiting at the door in a sulky parade rest when Alpha came flying up the walk. Fox could distantly see Tate and Vos some ways behind him. 

“What the kriff were you thinking!” Alpha yelled as soon as he got into decent yelling range. For Alpha, it was anywhere within 25 meters of the target. He kept moving, though, until he was right in front of Fox. 

“I was thinking Alpha is stubborn and won’t do what’s good for him,” Fox replied stoically, “Or did Vos interrupt you packing your tent to move into the kriffing Venator?”

“No, he interrupted me getting a shower!” Alpha growled back, “Why on earth did you call him?!”

“My question exactly,” Tate muttered as he and Vos walked past them into the house. 

“You outrank everyone else,” Fox shrugged. 

Alpha swung his hand up to point at Fox. Fox couldn’t stop a flinch. He kicked himself even as he grimaced away. 

Then he looked at Alpha’s crumbling face and kicked himself again. 

“It’s okay, Alpha,” Fox sighed, “Old memories, bad memories, you know how it is. You won’t hurt me, I know that.”

Alpha abruptly went to that flat-palm parade rest that Fox always hated to see him use, because it meant his Alpha was hurting. 

“You should never have been afraid of me. I was your guardian, and if you were afraid of me, I did something very wrong,” Alpha growled, “And if you are, I shouldn’t be around you.”

“Banthakark, Alpha. We used to wait at the door of our quarters until you came back from meetings, because you always had bruises. We couldn’t see them, but we could tell. So one of us would ‘have a nightmare,’ that night, to check on you. And to give you a hug, because you needed one. Even if you were forced to run us harder the next day. Especially then,” Fox said calmly. Anger would not help in this situation. 

Especially since Alpha’s eyes were getting wet. 

“Why the kark do you kriffing care?” He said, probably aiming for the loud anger he had when they started the conversation, but voice shaking too much for it. 

“You’re my buir, Alpha. Of course I care,” Fox returned softly. 

“I’m just your abusive trainer! I hurt you!” Alpha’s voice was getting more and more wobbly and wet by the word. 

“You never hurt me by choice. You only hurt me when you had to, when you knew it was the lesser of two great evils, when you knew they would take me away and take me apart if you didn’t. You were ten, you should never have been forced to make that choice.” Fox murmured back. 

“I should have done more, I still did you wrong, and you shouldn’t want me around you or yours ever again,” Alpha was shutting down, Fox could tell. 

Fox stepped forward, cautiously. Alpha didn’t move, and kept his gaze fixed on the ground. He didn’t react when Fox put his hand on Alpha’s shoulder, so Fox decided to go one step further, and wrapped his arms around the older man. 

“You can’t tell me what I do or don’t want, Alpha, you’re my CO not my puppet master. And if I forgive you, you have to accept that. You’re my family, and I want you safe and happy,” Fox murmured. 

Alpha was stiff under his arms, but Fox was patient. Fox put his hands over Alpha’s, where they remained in that parody of a parade rest, and nestled his chin into Alpha’s shoulder. 

Alpha made a noise kind of like a berth becoming unbolted, and tried half-heartedly to shake him off. When that failed, he froze one more time, and then finally started moving his arms. 

Alpha put his arms around Fox gently, like he was terrified of hurting the younger man, paused for a moment, and then put his chin on Fox’s shoulder as well. Fox didn’t do anything but hold slightly tighter, even when Alpha started trembling. 

“Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'buir (6), Alpha. I love you, just as much as you love me and my batchmates. Please, let me take care of you,” Fox murmured, with a bit of a wobble in his voice as he said the traditional Mandalorian phrase for honoring parents. 

“I’m the one supposed to be taking care of you,” Alpha said into Fox’s shoulder. 

“It’s okay to need help sometimes. My therapist says so, and she is very wise,” Fox joked, with an air of quivery seriousness. 

Alpha sighed. 

“Alright, Fox’ika. You win. I’ll come with you. What does your therapist say about going in and sitting down? I’m not as young as I used to be,” he muttered. 

“We can find a chair for your old bones, and then we’ll introduce you to Yma,” Fox grinned a little shakily, “You’ll either like her or hate her and either way it’ll be incredibly entertaining, for me at least.”

...

Riyo wasn’t quite sure what to expect from the Alphas that Vos was bringing. Both Fox and Thire referred to their Alphas like parents, so she had automatically conjured up images of middle-aged men with graying hair and a somewhat overdone repertoire of jokes. 

Perhaps that was just her Ypa. 

Tate, as Thire introduced him, didn’t look much older than Thire; he appeared about thirty to Thire’s twenty-five. And she could see traces of Thire in him; easygoing personality, and a sense of humor more often than not at others’ expense. 

But he was also different; quieter, shyer, less self-assured. He made expressions of surprise when Thire hugged him, though he did quickly hug back. Tightly, too, if Thire’s face like a fish out of water were any indication. 

After Riyo had extracted reassurance from Tate that Alpha would not actually kill her beloved, she and the rest gave them privacy to have their talk. 

Yma hugged Tate just like she had the rest of the troopers; Tate reacted with a surprised expression and a hesitant hug back. Yma had asked if Thire was always so mischievous, and Tate had replied with an enthusiastic, exasperated yes. They got on like a house on fire from there. 

They were talking about troublesome children and giving Riyo and Thire side-eyes, which both Riyo and Thire were deliberately ignoring, when Alpha and Fox came in. 

All eyes were immediately on them, Riyo discretely checking her beloved for injuries. The troopers were probably staring at Alpha because his eyes were red and his shoulders hunched. 

Fox put his hand on Alpha’s shoulder, and it probably wasn’t normal even for Clones to lean into casual touch that much. 

“This is my buir, Alpha-34. Alpha, this is Thire, my co-Commander, Clank-it, Routine, Stabby, and Splat, my men. The Pantoran lady next to Thire is Riyo, my cyare (7), and her mother, who prefers to be called Yma,” he said evenly. 

Alpha looked just a tad overwhelmed, but made an admirable effort to greet them all anyway. 

He stopped in front of her, and gently reached toward her necklace. 

“This is Fox’s armor,” he said. It was not a question. 

“Yes; it is a courtship necklace. Beautiful, isn’t it?” She replied. Why are you asking me this, she thought. 

“You will... take care of him? Like he’ll take care of you?” Alpha said, hesitantly. 

Ah. Clone-style shovel talk. 

“Of course. I love him, and I want him to be safe and healthy and happy,” she said gently. 

Alpha gave a small, pained smile. 

“I would be indebted to you,” he said. 

Riyo smiled back, with a small prickle of uncertainty in her heart. 

“There is no debt for taking care of family, Alpha,” she told him. He needed to know. It seemed no one had ever told him. 

“Oh,” his eyes held a quiet wonder in them, like he had just seen the stars for the first time. He looked over at Fox, who nodded at him and gave him a small smile. Alpha smiled back. 

...

Quinlan Vos couldn’t really say why he’d taken a liking to Alpha and Tate. The daylong trip from Dantooine to Pantora had been fraught with danger; not from outside the ship, but inside. They’d tried to overpower him twenty-seven times individually, plus a good eight times working together. It’d taken all of his Shadow training to keep ahead of them. 

But they were good men; irritable, certainly, creative, unfortunately (Tate’s idea of a good trap was bucket of shaving cream mixed with flour above a door, and a tripwire a step further into the room), and hurt deeply by the galaxy. Quinlan liked them; they reminded him a little of Obi-wan, and a little of Fox and Thire, and a little of himself. 

And they obviously loved his Commanders, which was a big plus in his book. Quinlan had a soft spot for anyone who made his Guards smile like that. 

And he definitely liked Yma; he liked to think she was like his own mother would be, if he’d met her. And she also made his guardsmen smile, so points in his book. 

And she could really cook, if what she made them for lunch was any indication. He’d had much worse in gourmet restaurants. 

He couldn’t resist teasing Fox about the Senator, see if he would still turn red once his affections were returned, and the answer was a resounding yes. Of course, the Senator also flushed a fetching purple when he teased her about Fox. Then they got a devilish look in their eyes, and leaned their foreheads against one another in a Keldabe Kiss. The entire table erupted in childish comments. 

Poor Yma looked so confused before Tate, who was sitting next to her, leaned over and explained what the gesture was. Then, she simply sighed at the lovebirds and hid her smile in her drinking cup. 

After dinner, the troopers did dishes. The ones who could still stand up, anyway. Vos snickered as he noted that most of the Clones present looked much too full to walk. 

Alpha, who was still feeling a little volatile in the Force, had been amazed at the homemade cookies Yma had served for dessert. He’d asked a lot of questions about how they were made, and how they were flavored. Yma offered to teach him to make them. He did not turn her down.

Tate was currently wrestling with a ball of yarn and a crochet hook, trying to learn the basics. He’d begun to produce a simple chain that reminded Quinlan of his old Padawan braid after a long mission as a Senior Padawan: long, straggly, and valuable because of what it represented and not what it looked like. He was talking quietly with Thire while concentrating with laser focus on each and every stitch. 

Alpha was sitting with Fox, Riyo, and Yma, going over her cookbook for a good beginner’s cookie recipe. Fox was holding Riyo’s hand under the table. Yma was giving them knowing smiles, and Alpha still didn’t look like he was quite sure he should be there, but happy nonetheless. 

Quinlan, himself, was helping with dishes. It’s much more economical to float the dishes into the kitchen all at once instead of taking a million trips to carry them by hand. He had a sneaking suspicion that if Obi-wan were here, he’d frown and lecture about frivolous use of the Force, but Obi-wan wasn’t here and the troopers were incredibly appreciative. 

He had never thought that he would have this after the war. Something Quinlan had never told anyone, even Aayla, was that he hadn’t expected to survive the war, either due to a Sith’s saber or a military tribunal. He’d thought he would Fall, and never come back, many times. After a near miss, he’d decided to drink his worries away, and got picked up by the Guard for drunk and disorderly. 

And hadn’t that been a shock, waking up in a jail cell guarded by thoroughly professional if out of their depth Clones. After he had managed to convince them he was a Jedi, he could feel their awe and respect in the Force. He couldn’t really bring himself to shatter that illusion any more than he already had, so he’d given them some tips on prisoner transport for people a bit more high-profile than your average drunk. They’d taken him to Fox, for the paperwork for his release, and he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the tired, untrained Commander doing the best he could. So he’d given Fox some tips as well. 

And, well, the next time he was scared of Falling on Coruscant, he went and got drunk again, and was picked up again, and gave some more advice. It kind of snowballed into a routine. It was toward the middle of the war that Quinlan realized he actually cared about the Guard, but he made sure to never cross any lines or get them in trouble. The biweekly visits to the drunk tank were enough. 

And then, he had gone to get drunk (he didn’t even really bother to actually get drunk any more, he just had a drink or two and got obnoxious) one night like usual, and no one came to pick him up. He wandered CoCo town for an hour and saw no patrolmen, other than the civilian police. He finally wandered down to the precinct to turn himself in, and found an empty building with the lights off. 

His first irrational thought was that a chemical weapon had been used against the Guard and no one noticed. He ran to the barracks, only to find rows and rows of bunks stripped to the mattress. That didn’t assuage his fears; now he was terrified of mass decommissioning, like he’d heard whispers of when working undercover. 

If anyone knew what happened, it was Senator Riyo Chuchi, the Patron Saint of the Coruscant Guard. So he ran to her office; he was lucky that it was morning by that time, and that she was in. She had told him that the Guard had evacuated to Kamino, to be with the rest of their brothers. 

He knew she could see the relief on his face, and he didn’t particularly care at the moment. His Guard were safe, that was all that mattered. It didn’t even register, for a second, that he had called the Guard his. It felt much too right. 

Fox smiled, watching Stabby being forcibly kept away from the knives. He’d gotten his name after managing to knife himself and two other people by accident, so he was banned from sharp edges pretty much indefinitely. He reached out and summoned the knives to him, to the grateful nods of Routine and Splat.

Riyo called him over and he acquiesced with a smile. He made sure to ruffle Fox’s hair, to the man’s enthusiastic protests, as he walked by.

The Guard were his, and he was the Guard’s, and they’d help each other through whatever came next. 

Especially if what Yma said about judging a cookie contest was true. He’d definitely like to help them with that.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. These are a real thing! Blaschko’s lines are imperceptible-to-human-eye variations in the skdue to migration of cells in embryo. Because the pattern is developmental (like fingerprints), not genetic like overall skin color, each Clone would have a different pattern. Some theorize that they can be seen in certain frequencies of UV light.   
> 2\. Mandalorian: “those who no longer exist,” the original 100 instructors and trainers for the Clone Army. Aka, the only natborn humans in Tipoca city for most of the CC’s childhood, and the most likely to have candy that young Clones could physically eat. Why did they hid it? Maybe they had the equivalent of a desk estash. And don’t worry, they definitely deserved having their candy stolen.   
> 3\. Mandalorian: ‘little Thire’; the ‘ika suffix is both a diminutive and an indicator of fondness. The closest analogue I could think of in English is the -y suffix to certain names, like Bob and Bobby and John and Johnny.   
> 4\. Mandalorian: ‘no longer Mandalorian.’ Mandalorian isn’t a race, it’s a creed. However, there are Mandalorians who are Manalorians culturally and religiously, and many sects of the religion, and also Mandalorians who are Mandalorian culturally but not religiously. I think it’s kind of like Judaism that way; no offense to any ethic or religious Jews reading this. To break that creed is to forfeit your right to be called Mandalorian, and also your soul, if you’re a religious Mando. One of the actions that breaks the creed is child abuse. Fox is referring to the Cuy’Val Dar here.   
> 5\. Mandalorian: ‘idiot brother’  
> 6\. Mandalorian: ‘I know your name as my parent.’ It’s kind of a reversal of the Mandalorian adoption vow, ‘I know your name as my child.’ In this universe, a ritual phrase to honor a parent that has already adopted you.   
> 7\. Mandalorian: ‘beloved’
> 
> I just wanted someone to give Fox motherly love, okay? Shaak is more Colt’s mom, and Vos is more like an annoying big brother or young uncle than anything. Yma Chuchi is based on a conglomeration of people I have met, been hugged by, and been fed by. Mostly my aunts. I have intimidating aunts.


End file.
